saw death on a sunny snow
by IAmMyOwnBiggestMystery
Summary: Some people are glaring, some people are crying, some people are viewing him with a pitying expression on their faces. The only one he cares about is behind him in a coffin. / Wally's funeral, Post-Endgame. Past Birdflash.


this is just a quick little thing i busted out. title from "for emma" by bon iver, you should listen to it while reading. however, i own neither yj nor bon iver.

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(at first, Dick doesn't believe it. he doesn't believe that his best friend, his former lover, has just vanished into the wind. he can't. he won't.)

Wally's funeral is on a bright and sunny day. The clouds are mere white puffs in the sky, the sun smiling lazily down upon the funeral-goers. A line of people dressed modestly in black are filing into the little chapel. Dick is among them, hair slicked back and suit impeccably tailored.

He feels like a fish out of water.

Everyone knows him and Wally had their falling out two years ago. Everyone knows they went their separate ways and only spoke occasionally. And even then, it was formal, how-are-you-what-have-you-been-up-to kind of talk. Nothing like how they used to be.

Like how in love they used to be.

It was the greatest secret the Justice League could've ever had. _Hey, guess what? Two of our sidekicks are dating—and they're both men! Isn't that neat?_ The news would've had a field day, the homophobes would riot. It was decided for the better that they wouldn't come out.

It was all ancient history to them now. One of them was barely alive and the other was buried in a coffin six feet under. Not the ideal ending.

He files into the chapel and sits in the second pew, right behind Iris and Barry and Artemis. _Artemis_. The name feels bitter and angry on his tongue, a spiteful reminder. He knows that Iris sees him, at least. She stiffens ever so slightly at the waft of his cologne reaching towards their seat. (he hasn't changed it since he was 13. sue him.)

The entire service is miserable. The pastor is preaching words of 'wisdom' and everyone seems to be nodding along mindlessly. Dick can't stand it. He knows Wally would've hated it.

Then Barry stands up, clearing his throat. He takes a few shaky steps towards the podium. He glances behind himself, at the body of his nephew in his casket, and turns back to the crowd, squeezing his eyes shut and taking a deep breath.

"Wally—" He cuts himself off. "Wally was one of the greatest men I have ever had the pleasure of knowing and loving. He was a hero. Always a hero, always willing to help someone out if they needed it. Christ, he used to—he used to help out the elderly he'd see in grocery store parking lots to their cars. Help the tiny old women lift big jugs of milk into their trunks. That's just who he was."

Iris and Artemis have begun to weep now, their tears tasting salty on their lips. And Dick has begun to as well, though he doesn't notice.

"I don't think I have it in me to say anymore, right now. I'll let Iris and Artemis go now."

Iris shakes her head no, too overcome with grief to speak. Artemis, however, steels herself and walks up to the podium, quietly thanking Barry. "I—I don't really know what to say. I loved hin so much. I can't believe he's gone."

It sounds so fake. Dick feels bad for thinking it, because it's obvious she's distraught about it, and his jaded, hurt mind can't deny her that. But still. He knows he loved—loves—Wally so much more deeply and passionately than that. They were each other's first love.

He supposes that's the problem.

More and more people get up and speak. Everyone from the Justice League, their whole (old) team. It dwindles down to people who can't say more than a few words. Then Iris turns around and gives a pleading look to Dick. Her eyes scream, _please, you loved him so much._

And god, did he ever. So he does. He sighs, stands, and gracefully reaches the podium. The whole chapel seems shocked to see him up there, after all they'd been through. But that was the point, wasn't it? Even after all they'd been through, Dick still loved Wally with everything in his beating heart. So he speaks.

"I know most of you must hate me. I know Wally and I were never the same after about two years ago. You probably know about our—um." He clears his throat. "Our big breakup. It didn't go well. Lots of words were said that I wish weren't. I regret that fight more every day of my life. But I never regret loving him. Loving him was one of the best things I've ever done. I still do. I still love him so much."

Some people are glaring, some people are crying, some people are viewing him with a pitying expression on their faces. The only one he cares about is behind him in a coffin.

"Wally's greatest flaw was thinking he was immortal. He thought he could run from death as long as he could run. And for a good while, I believed him. I believed with my whole soul we would cheat death together forever. Of course, fate has other plans."

He spares a glance back at Wally, and his mouth crumples unevenly.

"I'm going to read his favorite poem now, if you don't mind. I'm going to read it even if you do." That earns him some weak chuckles, so he supposes he's not entirely hated.

"' Run, run, run

run away with me.

run, run, run

to somewhere hot in the sun.

run, run, run

away from them.

run, run, run

from your mortality.

run, run, run

away with me.

run, run, run

into space or into the sea.

run, run, run

with me, you'll see

can make things better.

run, run, run

for me

run for immortality.'"

The church is in sobs, but none more than Dick. He's slumped over the podium by the end of the poem, his heart unable to take the strain of the person he loved so much gone. He collapses into a crouch, grabbing his hands in his hair and crying so hard he nearly gags on it.

"Please don't be dead, please don't be dead, god I miss you so much, come back please, I love you so much, I should've given you a reason to stay…" he throws himself onto the coffin, staring through tears at his old love's pale, closed eyelids, his dark grey suit, his carrot-red hair. He feels vaguely like an Italian women throwing her body over her husband's grave, and can't find it in himself to care.

Someone eventually drags him off the coffin, and he hears the people leave the church, leaving him there. A broken boy crying in his church clothes. It feels awfully familiar.

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